


One Step Ahead Of The Shoe Shine

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s03e05 War Crimes, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-09
Updated: 2003-04-09
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:36:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: "I get slandered, libeled, I hear words I never heard in the Bible... "





	One Step Ahead Of The Shoe Shine

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**One Step Ahead Of The Shoe Shine**

**by:** Baked Goldfish 

**Category/Characters:** Humor/ensemble  
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Summary:** "I get slandered, libeled, I hear words I never heard in the Bible... "  
**Spoilers:** War Crimes (post-ep)  
**Disclaimer:** TWW is owned by NBC.  Title, summary and last line are from Simon  & Garfunkel's "Keep The Customer Satisfied".  Don't sue me, 'kay?  
**Author's Note:** This one's downright insipid.  Also, a big thank you to everyone who commented on "Mothers  & Sons". 

Leo waited on the black tarmac on that even blacker night.  The lights from Air Force One and the ones on the strip there at Andrews Air Force Base lit up that tiny area of Maryland like it was sunrise. 

However, it was not sunrise.  It was somewhere around two in the morning, and the President had just flown in from... wherever.  Leo couldn't remember.  It was two in the morning. 

After three or four minutes of waiting in the cold, he checked his watch; now, it was three or four minutes after two in the morning.  "Where the hell is he?" he muttered through gritted teeth.  

As if on cue, the President almost bounced down the steps from the plane.  "Leo!" he called out jovially, and that's when Leo knew he was going to be up all night. 

"Mr. President," he greeted, walking to meet him.  Charlie, trailing behind the President, looked half dead.  "Charlie, how ya doin'?" 

"Pretty good," he lied.  "You?" 

"Charlie," Bartlet cut in.  "You can head on home until ten when we get back." 

"Thank you sir," the young man said, meaning it full well. 

"Leo, on the other hand," the President added with a smirk.  "We've gotta go over the commerce bill, right?" 

"Yes, sir," Leo replied.  He hoped his grimace didn't show that much at a few minutes past two in the morning on that well-lit landing strip. 

[-----] 

"Visne scire quod credam?" 

Leo was sitting on the couch, slouching and bored looking.  The sun was bright outside, and it was a beautiful day already, with blue skies and nary a cloud to be seen.  "Sir, are we done talking about the commerce bill?" 

"Visne scire quod credam?" 

Sighing defeatedly, Leo decided to play the straight man to Bartlet's Latin "comic".  "No, sir, I don't know what you think.  What do you you think, Mr. President?" 

"Credo orbes volantes exstare." 

He glared at the President.  "You think flying saucers exist.  Remind me to never put you in front of the press again." 

"A ha!" Bartlet exclaimed.  "You *do* remember your Latin!" 

"Don't you have anything better to do?" he muttered. 

"Not til eight," Bartlet replied.  "Why?  Are you busy?" 

Pretending to look startled, Leo pulled out his beeper and stared at the blank face of it.  With a fake frown on his face, he said, "Damn, that's my beeper." 

Frowning, Bartlet said, "I didn't hear your beeper go off." 

"I had it set on vibrate," Leo mumbled, getting up and heading to his office.  

"You know how to say, 'damn, that's my beeper,' in Latin?" Bartlet asked, getting up with Leo.  

"I do, in fact, know that-" 

"Heu, tintinnuntius meus sonat!" 

"If you'll excuse me, sir."  He escaped as quickly as was polite, and locked the door between their offices.  

Sitting down at his desk, he yelled, "Margaret!  Margaret, are you there?" 

"Yes," she snapped, stalking into his office.  "But I'm not deaf."  She dropped his schedule on his desk and stalked out again.  

He rubbed his eyes and glanced down at his schedule; he had a full plate all the way through lunch, fifteen minutes, and then a full plate again.  "Margaret-" 

"Futue te ipsum et caballum tuum!" 

He stared at her door, mouth hanging open in mid-speech, wondering when she'd taken the time to learn Latin insults.  "Margaret?" 

She stalked back in, looking exasperated.  "What?" she snapped. 

"What'd I do to you?" 

"What do you *think* you did?" she snarked. 

"Woke up," he mumbled as she walked out.  Looking back down at his schedule, he ran a hand over his head.  It was going to be a long day. 

[-----] 

"We gotta tell him," Sam muttered conspiratorily to CJ. 

"Let me think about this for a minute-" 

"We gotta tell him!" 

"I'm not gonna be the one to tell him you got drunk and hit on his sister," CJ snapped.  "His *married* sister.  With kids.  And that the Enquirer has photos." 

"I wasn't drunk," Sam griped.  "I was tipsy.  And I wasn't hitting on her!" 

"Well, the bartender said-" 

"I don't even know why she was there." 

"Sam-" 

"She works in Atlanta!  This is DC!" 

"Would you shut up for a-" 

"Can we just go tell him?" 

"Do you have a death wish?" 

"He's gonna find out sometime," Sam stated.  "Might as well get it over with now." 

CJ shook her head.  "Just give me a minute." 

"Why?" 

"To maybe figure out a way to keep him from beating you into the ground," she muttered. 

"Good enough reason for me," Sam said chirpily as he sat down on her couch. 

[-----] 

Leo rubbed his eyes.  It wasn't even ten yet, and he was already tired.  "Senator-" 

"Your communications director-"  Senator Jonston sighed, frustrated, and slapped the arm of his chair.  "I can't believe you let your staff galavant like that!" 

"You do realize, you've been here for ten minutes," Leo began slowly. 

"Yes," the senator replied primly. 

"Ten minutes." 

"Yes."  This time, it was less certain than before. 

"I have no idea what Toby Ziegler did to you or your progeny." 

Jonston blinked, flabbergasted.  "He made my secretary cry!" 

"Toby Ziegler makes *me* cry," Leo snapped.  "Is that all he did?" 

"Well, there's also the matter of-" 

"Please, Senator," he sighed.  "I've got-"  He motioned to his schedule.  "If you'll excuse me." 

"I can't believe this," the senator huffed, standing up.  "You'll be hearing from me again!"  He slammed the door shut behind him. 

"This day isn't happening," Leo murmured, walking into Margaret's office.  "Margaret, do you have-" 

"You suck," she snarled. 

"Is this about Senator Jonston's secretary?" Leo asked.  "Because that was Toby, not me." 

Perplexed, Margaret turned away from her computer and asked, "What happened to Senator Jonston's secretary?" 

"Toby made her cry, or something," Leo replied dismissively.  

The brimstone and fire were back in her demeanor and she growled, "You let him make her cry?" 

"I didn't-" 

"Are you going to apologize, Leo?"  She spat out his name as if it were a curse word. 

Confused, he nodded and walked back into his office, unsure as to why he'd walked into her office in the first place.  As soon as he closed the door, he looked at his watch.  Still not yet ten.  But, as he looked over his schedule, he saw that he still had five minutes until his next meeting with the President, so he conceivably could lie down until Bartlet needed him- 

"Leo," the President said as he poked his head into Leo's office.  Margaret just informed me that you're free now.  Congressum faciamus." 

Leo flinched and asked, "Are you gonna be speaking in tongues all day, sir?" 

Bartlet shrugged and said, "I'm in a Roman state of mind.  Come on, Leo!  It'll be fun!"  He disappeared back into the Oval. 

Leo passed his hand over his face and followed, praying that he could stay awake and coherent long enough to make a relatively clean getaway. 

[-----] 

"Sam-" 

"I didn't-" 

"Sam!" Toby bellowed.  When the entire bullpen turned to look at the three of them, he pulled CJ and Sam into his office and shut the door.  "You hit on his sister?" 

"She looked younger," he squeaked. 

Running a hand over his scalp, he muttered, "He's gonna kill you.  You know that, right?" 

"That's not all," CJ said. 

Toby glared at her for a second.  "What else," he mumbled. 

"The Enquirer has pictures... " 

"They have pictures?" he muttered incredulously. 

"We think," Sam put in. 

"We think?" both CJ and Toby repeated, turning to stare at Sam. 

He shrank under their gazes, and said, "Look, it's not as if I was really hitting on her, and besides, it's the Enquirer!" 

Ginger popped her head in the office.  "CJ, Carol wanted me to tell you that the Times just called, it seems they have some pictures." 

"The... wait," CJ said.  "Which Times?" 

"New York."  She went back to the bullpen. 

Sam blanched.  "I didn't do anything!" 

Toby looked at CJ.  "Let's go tell him." 

"Can I get a priest?" Sam asked, walking with them as they left Toby's office. 

"What for?" Toby asked. 

"Last rights." 

[-----] 

"Josh!" 

Josh glanced behind him as his asisstant rounded a corner and caught up with him.  "'Sup?" 

She pressed a folder to his chest as they walked and said, "This."  He kept walking, but could tell from the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice that he was in trouble. 

Nonetheless, he made the mistake of taking the folder and asking, "What is 'this'?" 

"'This' is the dumbass assignment, and I use that term loosely, the dumbass assignment that you... "  She stopped walking and looked to the side in thought. 

"... assigned to you?" he filled in, coming to a stuttering halt and looking over his shoulder at her. 

"Assigned to me," she snapped, walking again.  "Why on earth did you give me *this*?" 

"Because it needs to be done, Donna," he stated exasperatedly. 

She glared at him, and he stopped walking.  "Who told you," she began with narrow eyes and a low voice, "that you could give me that... thing?" 

He stared at her, wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights, and thought for a moment.  He had a choice, he figured; one, he could be in trouble with his asisstant, Donnatella Moss, who would kill him in small, slow and painful ways, or, two, he could be in trouble with- 

"Leo," he lied, cringing even as the name came out of his mouth.  Leo would be merciful.  Leo would be kind.  Leo would not let Donna torture him.  

Leo would kill him quickly.  

Drawing herself up, Donna continued to glare at him.  "Leo," she repeated acidly, before spinning on her heels and walking away. 

Josh let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, and shuffled away, feeling aimless and confused. 

[-----] 

"... And then, he told me that he made Senator Jonston's secretary cry," Margaret finished, pouring herself another cup of coffee. 

"Leo made Shelly cry?" Carol gasped. 

"Well, technically, Toby made Shelly cry," Margaret admitted.  "But," she began pointedly.  "Toby works for Leo." 

"I can't believe it," Ginger muttered, shaking her head before taking a sip of coffee. 

Donna walked up to them as they stood in the kitchenette and asked, "Can't believe what?" 

"Leo made Shelly at Senator Jonston's office cry," Cathy answered. 

"That jackass," Donna mumbled. 

The other asisstants made concerned faces at her, and she continued, "He gave me this completely dumbass thing to do.  I mean, I know I work at the White House, and we run a tight ship here, but Josh said I have to have it done by tonight, and there is no way, absolutely no way, that I can have it done in less than two days unless I don't take time to eat or sleep." 

"What is it?" Margaret asked. 

Donna handed her the folder and said, "That." 

The other asisstants all gathered around as Margaret opened the folder and perused the contents.  "Wait... that doesn't need to be done until next week!  Josh told you you had to have it done by tonight?" 

"Leo told Josh to tell me to do it," Donna corrected. 

"That jackass," Carol said. 

"Say, Margaret," Ginger said.  "You never did tell us why you were so mean to him this morning." 

"Guess where you guys are going for a few days this winter," Margaret said. 

The others looked at each other before chorusing, "Miami." 

"Guess where I'm gonna be.  Again." 

"Ooh," they said in tandem, all shaking their heads and looking sympathetic. 

"That's how many trips running now?" Carol asked. 

"I've lost count," Margaret shrugged, sipping her coffee. 

"That jackass," the other asisstants muttered together. 

[-----] 

Leo left the Oval with a dizzying array of modernized Latin phrases spinning around his head; he now knew how to say everything from, "Let's go, Orioles," to, "I'd like to buy a pack of condoms," in Latin (and though he wasn't quite sure why the President knew that last one, he wasn't about to ask, for fear of becoming even more disturbed than he already was).  They'd only spent a fraction of the time actually discussing the business of the day, which Leo knew would happen, because he knew that the stress and lack of sleep that the President had been getting recently would, eventually, have led to some sort of bizarre behavior that precluded actual work. 

He wasn't even sure what the commerce bill was about at this point.  But he was sure he could discuss it, at length, in Latin.  

He sat down at his desk, and scrubbed at his eyes; he'd been up since yesterday, six in the morning, and he only had a few more hours to go before he could go home and collapse.  Eight or nine at the most.  And lunch was going to be right after this staff meeting that he had in a minute, so he could lie down for a bit then. 

Margaret walked in, and spat out, "They're here."  Then she gave him a dirty look and walked back to her office. 

One by one, his senior staff filed in, each one looking rather petulant and not meeting his eyes.  Sighing, he remained seated, and rather bitterly asked, "What?" 

Toby was the first to speak, his eyes focused on some point on the ground in front of Leo's desk.  "What, 'what'?" 

"Why do all of you look like-"  Shaking his head, he said, "Please don't tell me we lost votes on the commerce bill." 

"We didn't," Josh assured him.  "Promise." 

"Then why do you all look like this?" Leo asked, exasperated. 

"We... might have a little problem," Sam began optimistically. 

Glaring, Leo repeated, "A little problem?" 

Nodding, CJ began, "See, Sam got drunk-" 

"I wasn't drunk-" 

"-and he hit on your sister." 

"Except I didn't, really," Sam piped up. 

A growing feeling of dread gnawed at Leo's stomach, and he slowly asked, "Which sister?" 

They remained silent for a moment, before Toby answered, "Josephine." 

They stayed quiet, pensive, waiting for the torrent of anger that they knew would come; Leo stared off into space, absently tapping a pencil on his desk. 

Finally, Josh broke the silence.  "Leo?" 

"Yes, Joshua?" 

"I'd just like to say, this is the first I heard of all this." 

Leo nodded, seeming rather detached from it all, and turned his attention to Sam.  "Sam?" 

"Yessir?" 

"You hit on my sister." 

"Yessir." 

"Are you, perchance, planning to hit on all the women in my life?  Because, if so, I could introduce you to my mother-" 

"That won't be necessary," Sam interrupted. 

"What won't be necessary?" Bartlet asked, striding into the room. 

The all turned to him, and Leo stood in deference.  "I won't be hitting on Leo's mother, sir," Sam replied. 

"Damn shame," Bartlet said.  "She was quite the looker, you know." 

"Sir!" Leo gasped, paling and looking as if he needed to sit back down. 

"In fact," the president continued, lost in thought.  "And I never told you this, Leo, but in fact, I had a crush on her when I was younger."  Turning back to Sam, he asked, "What brought up this topic, anyway?" 

"Sam hit on Josephine McGarry at a reception last night, sir," Toby answered. 

"You hit on Josie?" Bartlet said to Sam. 

"Yes, sir," Sam replied. 

"When I was younger, I had a thing for her, you know," Bartlet said.  "But she used to smack me on the back of my head whenever I hit on her.  Come to think of it-" 

"Sir," Leo mumbled, looking more ashen than before. 

"-Ron Ehrlich hit on her, too," the president continued.  "And Jason Arlon.  You remember Jason Arlon, right, Leo?  Captain of the football team?  He used to make hash marks on his helmet whenever he and a girl... Josie dated him.  Actually, Josie dated both him and Ron." 

"That's my sister you're talking about," Leo protested, but everyone was too busy listening to Bartlet speak to hear Leo. 

"She dated just about everyone who hit on her," he continued.  "Except me.  She used to smack me." 

Again, Bartlet looked lost in thought.  After a moment, he spoke up.  "You know, if I weren't married, and she weren't married, and if I weren't president, and if she hadn't smacked me on the back of the head so much when we were younger..." 

"Please don't let this be happening," Leo mumbled as he collapsed in his chair. 

"... I might've hit on her, too," the president finished. 

"He was tipsy at the time," CJ put in helpfully. 

"Oh, I would definitely have hit on her," Bartlet affirmed strongly.  Quickly, he added, "If I weren't already married, that is." 

"Yes, sir," the staff (minus Leo) chorused. 

"Because I'm quite happily married.  Got kids and everything." 

"Yes, sir." 

"My wife's beautiful.  Maybe you've seen her." 

"Yes, sir." 

Bartlet nodded, feeling accomplished, and went back into his office. 

The staff turned their attention back to Leo, who was busy burying his face in his hands with his elbows firmly planted on his desk.  

"Leo?" CJ began tentatively. 

"Yeah?" he mumbled through his fingers. 

"It might be worse." 

It might be worse.  Not it *could* be worse, but it *might* be worse.  "Oh christ," he nearly whimpered.  Raising his head, he asked, "What?" 

CJ stated, "We're not quite sure, but-" 

"The Enquirer might have pictures," Sam finished. 

"And the Times, too," Toby mumbled. 

Shoulders sagging, Leo asked, "Which Times?" 

"New York," Toby supplied. 

In the awkward silence that ensued, Josh looked at the two parties – one, their boss, and two, the communications senior staff.  Raising his hand, he said, "Once again, I'd like to point out, I knew nothing about this... " 

Wearily, Leo let his arms drop to his desk and turned his eyes to Josh.  "Josh." 

The deputy shuffled his feet nervously.  "Yes?" 

"Joshua." 

"Leo?" 

"I think of you like you're my own son." 

"That's... that's nice, Leo." 

"I really do." 

"O-okay." 

"Please tell me you have something good to tell me." 

Licking his lips nervously, Josh stared him right in the eyes.  "You know that... thing you assigned me earlier today?" 

Leo nodded; Joshua was a good boy.  Perhaps Joshua was already finished with his work.  "The thing that was punishment for that little debacle you made last week-" 

"Yeah," Josh said.  "Well... I kinda... "  He took a deep breath and continued staring. 

His hopes dying, Leo prompted, "Josh?" 

"I gave it to Donna, and she got mad at me, and I told her you told me to tell her to do it," he blurted out in a gush of air. 

They didn't break the stare, and the other three staffers moved to a corner of the room, fearful that they might accidentally (or not so accidentally) be caught in the path of heavy, suddenly airborn objects heading Josh's way. 

Leo finally turned his gaze to some spot above Josh's right shoulder.  "She thinks I'm punishing her?" 

"I think she might... hate you?  And all the other asisstants probably do, too," Josh stated, flinching visibly. 

Blinking, Leo looked down at his desk.  "Okay," he said softly.  "Okay.  Everyone, just... go.  Out.  Go away."  They left quickly, without so much as a thank you, though they were very thankful to have escaped Leo's formidable wrath completely unscathed. 

Leo, for his part, remained seated at his desk, staring blankly at the desk blotter with his knees together and his hands in his lap.  He slowly lowered his head to the desk, until his forehead connected with the blotter.  He would just put his head down for a minute.  Just a minute. 

Really. 

[-----] 

Charlie poked his head into Donna's workspace.  "Hey, Donna," he greeted amicably. 

"Whatever," she muttered, seeming to be very busy. 

Raising an eyebrow, Charlie just mumbled, "O-kay... "  Walking up to her and putting a binder on her desk, he said, "The president wants you to get this stuff done by tomorrow, lunchtime.  There're instructions on the first page-" 

"Arggh!" 

"-uhh... Donna?" 

"What?" she snapped. 

"Did you just say 'arg'?" he asked. 

"I can't, Charlie," she huffed, motioning to the binder.  "Josh gave me this dumbass assignment to do by tonight, and I can't work on anything else if I want to get it done, so the President's just gonna have to find some *other* lackey to do his dirty work for him!" 

Charlie glanced around the bullpen self-conciously before asking, "Donna?" 

"I know," she mumbled petulantly as she covered her face with her hands.  "I'm sorry."  Taking the binder from him, she said, "I'll have it done by tomorrow, and tell the President I'm sorry I yelled at him." 

"I don't actually think he heard you, but okay," Charlie replied.  "What're you working on, anyway?" 

"This," she muttered, pushing some papers towards him.  "Leo didn't even have the guts to assign it to me himself, he had to get Josh to do it." 

Charlie looked over the cover sheet and shook his head.  "No, Leo assigned this to Josh, not you." 

Puzzled, Donna stated, "Josh said Leo assigned it to *me*." 

"Nah, this is payback for that thing Josh pulled last week on Capitol Beat," Charlie said, handing it back to her. 

She regarded the cover sheet thoughtfully, and asked, "You sure?" 

"Positive.  That's for Josh, not you."  Glancing at his watch, he said, "Anyway.  I gotta go.  The President's giving a lecture on Latin insults, and I don't wanna miss it." 

Donna waited until he was gone before getting up and making her way with the assignment to Margaret's office.  "Margaret, you free?" she asked, knocking on her friend's door. 

"Sure," Margaret said, glancing up from her computer.  "Come on in." 

"Thanks," Donna said, flashing her a bright grin.  "Got a question for you." 

"Shoot," Margaret said distractedly, typing something in. 

"When Leo asked you to run this thing over to Josh, what, exactly, did he tell you?" 

Without looking away from her computer screen, Margaret replied, "He said, 'Give this to Josh, he'll know what to do with it.'  Why?" 

"Those exact words?" Donna asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Because, I need to make sure he didn't say something like, 'Give this to Josh so he can give it to Donna,' or anything-" 

"Donna, what's up?" Margaret asked, finally giving her her full attention. 

"Charlie just told me that this dumbass assignment was meant for Josh to do by tonight, not for me to do," Donna said with a frown. 

Margaret was silent for a moment before saying, "You're kidding." 

"He was just talking to me." 

"What are you gonna do?" Margaret asked quietly. 

"I'm gonna go talk to Josh," Donna stated, nodding. 

"He deserves a good talking-to," Margaret agreed. 

"Yes.  Yes, he does."  With that, Donna left, the dumbass assignment in her hands. 

[-----] 

"I think we have to call her," Toby said. 

CJ nodded, pacing.  "I agree.  Find out what's-" 

Sam leaned forward on the couch and interrupted, "Wait, wait.  You want me to call her and-" 

"No one said it had to be you," Toby interjected. 

"So you want some random staffer to call this woman up and tell her that I don't find her attractive?" Sam balked. 

"One, we wouldn't be telling her in those words, and two, I don't think it'd break her heart to find out you weren't really trying to hit on your boss' married sister," CJ replied.  "I'll call her, okay?  She knows me." 

Toby's phone rang, and he picked it up.  "Yeah?"  A moment later, he put the reciever to his chest and looked at CJ.  "Carol says you've got a phone call." 

"Who?" 

"Josie." 

She took the reciever from Toby and told him, "I'll take it in here."  

He looked at her expectantly for a moment before asking, "CJ?" 

"Yes?" 

"I mean, Ginger's a great girl, but I don't think she's psychic-" 

Meekly, she put the phone to her ear and said, "Tell Carol I'll take the call in here, Ginger." 

The two men waited while she took the call, listening to the various, "yeahs" and, "uh-huhs," that she was making, and trying to discern by the tone of her voice what all those little sounds meant.  Then, she hung up, and she turned to the two of them with a puzzled look on her face. 

"What happened?" Sam prodded. 

"The Times called her," CJ replied.  "She told them you weren't drunk, and you weren't hitting on her." 

"That's because, unlike the Enquirer photographer, Mrs. McGarry's a very perceptive woman," Sam stated, nodding.  

"Actually, she said she just wanted something else to hold over her brother," CJ said.  "She thought you were trying to hit on her." 

"Oh." 

"She thought it was cute that you were trying so hard, and told me to tell you that maybe next time you should try for a girl more your own age." 

Sam furrowed his brows despondently and stared into space.  "She thought I was trying hard?" 

"And she said you were cute," Toby added, keeping his smirk at bay.  "Like a puppy." 

"She did not," Sam retorted. 

"Look, why don't we go tell Leo?" CJ finally said.  "He'll probably want to know that you weren't really hitting on his sister, even if you were." 

"But I wasn't-" 

"Let's go, Spanky." 

Toby pulled some papers out of his desk and said, "You two go on ahead.  I've got some stuff I need to take care of here."  

"We'll see you later," CJ said as she and Sam left.  As soon as they were out the door, Toby picked up the phone and dialed up Senator Jonston's office. 

[-----] 

Josh looked up from the work he was doing when his office door swung open.  He was sitting with his feet up on the desk, and looked over the tips of his shiny black shoes.  "Donna?" 

"This," she began, holding up the assignment, "was your assignment, not mine." 

With a self-concious smirk, Josh asked, "Who told you that?" 

"Charlie."  She dumped the folder on his desk.  "You've got until tonight to finish it, or Leo's gonna kill you." 

"You believe Charlie over me?" he asked incredulously, the smirk still plastered on his face though his eyes held slight fear. 

"Of course I believe Charlie over you," she spat.  "What, do you think I'm stupid?" 

"Well, I *did* have you going there for a while," he answered.  The smirk finally left his face as he realised what he'd just said.  "Um.  I mean.  Donna." 

"Josh." 

"Yeah?" 

"I want tomorrow off." 

"Okay." 

"Also, I want to leave early on Saturday." 

"Okay." 

"And I want-" 

"Donna?" 

"Yes?" 

"I screwed up, but... don't push your luck." 

She regarded him coldly and spun on her heels, her blond hair bouncing angrily as she turned and left. 

Josh sighed and glanced over the assignment.  Running a hand through his poofy hair, he figured he would give all he owned for one of Leo's fast killings over Donna's impending slow one. 

[-----] 

"Hey Margaret," Sam greeted. 

"Hey," she replied, typing something up. 

"Leo in?" CJ asked. 

Margaret checked the schedule.  "Well, he's on lunch now, but he should be ready soon.  You can go on in." 

"Thanks."  CJ led Sam into Leo's office; immediately after they closed the door, they stopped short at the sight before them. 

Sam blinked and nudged CJ, who was standing beside him.  "D'you think he's dead?" he whispered, staring at Leo, who was face down on his desk. 

"Can't be," CJ whispered back, also staring.  "He's drooling." 

"Should we wake him?" he mumbled, still in open shock. 

"You wake him." 

"No, *you* wake him." 

"Uh uh," she hissed, shaking her head vehemently.  "I say leave sleeping Leos lie, Sam.  Let's forget about this and just come back later." 

"But he'll get a... a neck thing," he whispered back,motioning at the way Leo was sleeping. 

Rolling her eyes, she huffed, "Fine.  Go wake him up." 

"Why're you ordering me around?" 

"I outrank you." 

"Technically, no." 

"I can beat you up." 

He waited a beat before nodding and walking over to Leo.  Hesitantly, he placed a hand on his boss' shoulder, and shook him gently.  "Leo?" 

"Ungh," Leo mumbled with his eyes still closed, swatting Sam away. 

Sam looked, wide eyed and unnerved, at CJ.  "Sure he's not dead?" 

Turning to leave, she said, "Let's try this again."  When she and Sam were back in Margaret's office, they closed the door quietly and raised her hand to knock. 

Margaret looked up at them, perplexed.  "What on earth are you doing?" 

"He's asleep in there," CJ explained. 

"Well wake him up," Margaret said.  "He's got meetings through seven tonight." 

CJ grabbed Margaret by the arm and pulled her up.  "C'mere and look at him."  Quietly, Sam opened the door, and Margaret peeked inside.  Her eyes widened at the sight of her boss fast asleep on his desk. 

"You sure he's not dead?" Margaret asked, stepping back into her office. 

"He was drooling," Sam supplied. 

"He's gonna get a neck thing," CJ added. 

Just then, Donna strode into Margaret's office.  "I'm gonna-" 

"Shh," the others said, as Sam closed the door to Leo's office as quickly and quietly. 

Donna shrank away from their strong response and muttered, "What'd I do?" 

"Leo's asleep in there, and we're wondering how to wake him up," Margaret said. 

"Why don't you just poke his shoulder?" Donna asked. 

"I did," Sam said.  "It didn't work." 

Donna sat down in a chair and asked, "Well, what're you doing?" 

The other three looked at each other and shrugged, right as Charlie was coming in. 

"What's going on?" the young man asked, suspiciously eyeing the group outside Leo's office. 

"Leo's asleep, and we're not quite sure what to do about it," Margaret answered. 

Charlie motioned out to the hall and said, "I've got a digital camera, if you want-" 

"Charlie?" Donna interrupted suddenly.  "You and the President came in around two-ish last night?" 

"Yeah," he replied, nodding.  "He sent me home for a few hours." 

"And Leo?" 

"Stayed," he said.  "No wonder he's asleep.  He was here before I was yesterday, and I'm pretty sure the president subjected him to Latin lessons today." 

Turning to Margaret, Donna asked, "You said Leo made Sherry at Senator Jonston's cry?" 

"Toby made her cry," Margaret corrected.  "But Toby works for Leo." 

Donna nodded.  "How much does Leo have on his schedule?" 

"Well, there's-" 

"Can you transfer it to Josh?" 

Margaret blinked; she'd filled the second half of his schedule with inconsequentials as punishment for Miami, so he only had pointless, "block of cheese day"-esque meetings for the next seven or so hours.  "Sure," she said.  "I can transfer all of it... why?" 

"The dumbass assignment," Sam answered, smiling at the fact that he figured it out.  "The one that was supposed to be Josh's, but he handed it down to Donna." 

Donna turned to glare at him.  "You knew?" she growled. 

He blanched and replied, "I found out at the staff meeting today." 

"Look," CJ interrupted, holding her hands up.  "What are we doing?" 

"We're gonna give Leo's schedule to Josh," Margaret answered.  Turning to Donna and Charlie, she asked, "Why're we doing that?" 

"To let Leo sleep," Charlie answered. 

"Since he's been here since yesterday morning," Donna added.  "And, also, because he gave Josh the dumbass assignment, not me." 

"I'll keep the president at bay," Charlie said. 

Margaret dialed a few numbers on her phone and stated, "All of Leo's calls are going to be screened through me." 

Nodding, Donna said, "I'll keep Josh locked in that office until all those meetings are done with." 

Standing against the wall, Sam leaned towards CJ and quietly asked, "Does it sometimes seem as if they'd be better at our jobs than we are?" 

"Only every day," CJ murmured back. 

[-----] 

When Leo woke up, there was no longer any natural sunlight streaming through his windows.  He lifted his head off his desk, swiping the moisture off his cheek before rubbing at his sore neck.  Checking his watch, his eyes widened and he grabbed a few key files before storming into Margaret's office. 

"Margaret, it's six-thirty," he bellowed angrily.  "What happened-" 

"I gave your schedule to Josh," Margaret replied, nonplussed.  "You were free since lunch, but you didn't wake up, so I left you there." 

He stared at her, anger in his posture but confusion on his face.  "I – Okay."  

"That means you can go home, Leo," she explained, sounding a little exasperated.  "Oh, but before you go, Josie talked to the Times, told them that Sam hadn't hit on her, and that he wasn't drunk." 

He blinked, and all the bluster left his stance.  "She did?  I mean, he hadn't?" 

"And he wasn't," Margaret said.  "Don't worry, Leo.  Just go home." 

"Okay," he said, slightly confused but mostly alright with it all.  He went back into his office, gathered his things, pulled on his coat, and walked out.  On the way, he passed by Sam's office; the speechwriter was working on some document, deep in thought. 

Leo knocked on the doorframe.  "Hey," he said. 

Sam sat up straighter before standing completely.  "Hey," he echoed.  "What's up?" 

"I heard about Josie calling the Times," Leo said. 

"Yeah," Sam smiled.  "We owe her." 

"Nah, it balances out the milk duds she stole from me," Leo replied.  Regarding Sam warily, he asked, "Did you hit on her?" 

"No." 

"I mean, truthfully?" 

Sheepishly, Sam nodded.  "Yeah."  At Leo's hard glare, he quickly added, "But I promise that the next time I have an interest in pursuing a relationship with any woman who even vaguely looks like you, I'll ask whether they're related to you before I... "  He looked away in thought. 

"Before you pursue them?" Leo filled in. 

"Exactly," Sam stated. 

Chuckling, Leo walked off.  "I'll see ya tomorrow, Sam."  

He ran into Senator Jonston on the way out.  "Senator, how are you?" he asked cautiously. 

"Fine," Jonston responded jovially.  "I just got through with a rather interesting meeting with your deputy.  Oh, and thank you for getting Ziegler to apologize to Sherry!" 

Leo blinked in surprise.  "No problem," he muttered as Jonston walked off.  He stepped into Josh's office and observed his deputy leaning back in his chair with his head in his hands.  

"Long night?" Leo quipped. 

"Why hast thou forsaken me?" Josh muttered, dropping his hands.  "One of us is gonna die.  It might be me, it might be her, it might be the squirrel that lives near my bedroom window, but one of us is gonna die, Leo." 

"Oh, please," Leo scoffed.  "I expect that kind of theatrics from Toby, not you.  Besides, you deserve even worse for trying to pass off the punishment that was rightfully yours to your asisstant." 

"My asisstant is also rightfully mine," Josh countered. 

"Your asisstant is rightfully her own," Leo said.  "And you, sir, are rightfully a dumbass."  Sighing, he shook his head.  "Have that thing done by tomorrow." 

Josh nodded, relieved that he hadn't gotten an even worse punishment.  "'Kay.  Hey, Leo?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I think I'm gonna need someone else to go on the Miami trip with me," he said.  "Can we get someone from personnel?" 

"I'll find you someone," Leo assured.  "See you tomorrow, Josh." 

"Bye," he mumbled, back at work already. 

Leo nodded and began to walk down to the cars.  Suddenly, he turned on his heels and strode back to his office. 

"Margaret, you in here?" he called, opening her door.  She was by the coattree, pulling her coat on.  "Margaret, Josh needs another body down in Miami with them." 

"I'll call someone from personnel in the morning," she said, buttoning her coat. 

"I was wondering if you were available to go," he asked.  At her stunned look, he explained, "I don't really trust sending some random temp down there with him, it's too important.  Are you available?" 

She continued to give him that stunned look. 

"Margaret?" 

"I can go," she answered, her hands still on the top button of her coat. 

He grinned and stepped towards her, dropping his briefcase as he buttoned that last button for her.  "Thanks, Margaret." 

She threw her arms around him, and he grunted in surprise.  "And to think, this morning I was calling you a jackass." 

He pulled back and stared at her.  "You are a very strange woman, you know that?" 

"And you're still a jackass," she replied, grinning.  Walking out the door, she called out, "Thank you!" 

He shook his head for what seemed like the fourth or fifth time that night, and began his walk back down to the cars.  He made it to the stairs before he heard his name. 

"Leo!" 

He turned around to see Donna walking briskly towards him.  "Donna." 

"Did you talk to Josh about rightful ownership?" she asked pointedly. 

Thrown by her directness, he stuttered, "Well, I-I think, I-" 

"Just say yes," Carol advised, sailing past him. 

"Yes," he immediately told Donna, nodding. 

She smiled at him and said, "He just told me I was rightfully my own, and that he was rightfully a dumbass.  I just knew those couldn't be his words."  With that, she walked off. 

Leo at last resigned himself to the fact that today would be ending on a confused, though halfway decent, note, and finally made his way to his car.  He directed the driver to take him straight home, no stops, and when he got there, he had a quick dinner before getting ready for bed.  As early as nine o'clock, he was under the sheets, and as he drifted off to sleep earlier than he'd ever drifted off since he was in junior high, an old familiar lyric floated into his head: 

//Gee, but it's great to be back home... 


End file.
